Zelda 2: The Legacy of Error
by messangerofgrief
Summary: "I am Error" the famous line from Zelda 2.  But who is this individual?  Why does he give Link his name?  And how does he know about the secret passage beneath the King's Tomb?  The tale of the misunderstood and unsung hero Error finally surfaces.
1. Chapter 1

This is a fanfic taking place between the original NES Zelda and Zelda 2. As a change of pace, it incorporates no ideas from Ocarina of Time or Skyward Sword. It tells the story of the mysterious Error, taking a goofy concept and turning it into a serious story. And just to tell you now, Link will be mentioned a few times, but will not actually appear in the story. Error is the star here. Please review.

Zelda 2: The Legacy of Error

Bagu jumped in surprise as the wooden door of his cabin shattered with a sound of thunder and a hail of splinters. Through the debris stepped a large, imposing figure. The man wore a thick red tunic with black embroidering, black leggings, and bulky leather boots. His long, dark hair nearly hid his pointed ears and his rather rugged beard complimented a harsh stare and a lumber-jack like physique.

"Error!" Bagu hissed angrily, "I thought I told you never to step foot on my property! Much less kick in my front door you drunken oaf!"

"Where is it?" Error narrowed his eyes and launched a soul piercing stare into Bagu's. Bagu stood up to confront him, but despite his disgruntled body language and challenging stance, Error could see it all contradicted by the unwritten words resonating within Bagu's vein laced corneas. The look in Bagu's eyes conveyed feelings of deceit, cowardice, and fear. Now certain that his gut accusation wasn't a folly, Error slowly approached the smaller, less intimidating man. Despite the rage swelling inside of him, Error knew that he needed to bridle his anger, to release it in a way that would get results and not lead to regrettable actions.

"Where is it?" he repeated slowly, making sure Bagu could feel his hot breath as the two men's faces were mere inches apart.

"Where is what?" Bagu's voice was already quivering with a subtle uncertainty. This was going to be very easy.

"You really are a horrible liar," Error said, "which is surprising considering how much experience you have. Maybe that's why you're so insecure. You know you can't even master a skill that petty, uneducated criminals pull off every day. Pathetic Bagu, absolutely pathetic."

Bagu's chubby face started to boil with rage. He began to tremble as Error watched the redness slowly climb into his cheeks like a volcano on the brink of eruption.

"How dare you!" Bagu finally backed up a step and shouted lividly, "you think you can kick in my front door and make false accusations and insult me? It's desperation, isn't it, Error? You're jealousy is way out of control. I'll have you arrested for this and even your guardianship of the King's Tomb, the only shred of repute you have remaining will be stripped from you!"

Error grinned. Jealousy? Guarding the King's tomb was no trifle, especially considering what had been hidden there, what was now missing. It was funny how liars often project their own feelings onto others. It was so hypocritical, yet so common.

"If you had resorted to being a petty thief just to get at me I wouldn't be making this visit," Error had to keep cool, it was his leverage, "but what you stole is sacred, Hylian property. It's far more than crossing the line, you've taken something as trivial as 'hard feelings' and gone so far as to risk jeopardizing all of Hyrule to discredit me. That is lower than the lowest thug. So tell me where it is before I ransack your entire cabin."

Bagu's face contorted with emotion: anger, pride, and probably the knowledge that everything Error said was true. Without further argument Bagu thrust his fist toward Error's face. Error intercepted the blow with one hand, a simple gesture that firmly asserted Error's physical dominance over Bagu.

"Where is it?" Error asked more viciously, clenching Bagu's fist in a grip of steel.

"Where is what?" Bagu fruitlessly tried to pull his arm free of the stronger man's grasp.

Error's response to this was simple. He twisted Bagu's arm counterclockwise until Bagu was howling in agony. Error continued until he knew that if he applied any more pressure it would snap Bagu's wrist. And he'd do that too if Bagu didn't yield.

"Where is it?" he offered his foe another chance.

"Aargh, It's not here! I swear!" Bagu cried.

"Then where is it?" Error spoke through clenched teeth, he would get his answers if he had to cripple the man.

"I'm not sure!" Bagu was pulling on his ensnared arm with his free hand trying to pry it loose. It was useless, but he was desperate for relief, "I hired some people! I heard a rumor that it was being kept at the King's Tomb and I hired people to find out! That's all!"

Not convinced Bagu was telling the whole truth, Error did not relinquish his grip, "Who'd you hire?"

"I'm not sure exactly who they were," Error pleaded, "it was through an organization out of Mido. They sent their people, I don't know them."

Great. Not only had Bagu stolen two pieces of the triforce, but he'd turned to an organized crime syndicate to help him do it! If they decided to sell it to the highest bidder… no, Error didn't even want to think about that.

"I swear I didn't know they'd actually steal it! I only wanted them to find it! I swear!" Bagu yelled frantically, but Error had no intention of releasing him from his death grip until he knew where to look.

"When you pay criminals to 'find' a treasure worth far more than whatever you're paying them, you'd better bet they're going to take the better value," Error snarled, "who was your contact? How did you find them?"

It had now become a chore to speak over Bagu's screams, but it was necessary.

"Let me go and I'll tell you!" Bagu begged.

"Tell me and I'll let you go," Error presented the counter offer. Bagu's wrist was probably damaged at this point, but Error hadn't felt it snap.

"Okay, okay go to Mido," Bagu panted desperately to try to get the words out, "on the north side of town a man in a blue robe with a hood wanders the streets around dusk. Find him and say 'Dodongo dislikes smoke' and he'll lead you to their hideout."

Error angrily thrust Bagu's fist away from himself. Bagu sighed with relief, and, already on his knees, he pulled his sore wrist between his legs and rubbed it tenderly with his other hand, groaning at the residual pain. His reaction was pretty severe, maybe Error had broken it. It didn't matter, assuming Bagu had told the truth, he had his work cut out for him hunting down the missing triforce. How could anyone be so ignorant? So foolish? So selfish?

"Alright asshole," Error said, "you'd better get down on your knees and pray I find it soon, because if I don't I'll have to tell Impa what happened, and if I do that we both can kiss our asses goodbye."

Error's long standing feud with Bagu had been the result of a misunderstanding more than anything else. After Gannon died, Hyrule had been divided. Impa, as well as the tattered remains of the royal family, had designated prestigious individuals to guard and protect certain areas of importance so that they were kept clear of looters, bandits, and, in theory monsters, although the latter had become a problem since Gannon's minions were gearing up for his resurrection, their numbers increasing by the day. Error was highly esteemed by Impa, and had inherited guardianship over the King's Tomb and its surrounding graveyard. Trusting him intimately, Impa had also secretly charged him with keeping the triforce of wisdom and the triforce of power safe until the triforce of courage could be retrieved from the Great Temple.

During that time Bagu, whom Error had never met, began to lobby for control over the river leading to Death Mountain. Error didn't have anything against Bagu at the time, but his friend, Reese, who was a very trustworthy individual, was the woefully unpopular mayor of Ruto. Reese had been unfortunate to have some very tragic things happen in the town during the course of his term, and had been grievously blamed by the citizens. Their anger began to snowball and Reese soon became Ruto's scapegoat for everything bad that happened in Hyrule. Determined to do his duty, Reese refused to resign, and Error hoped to use his personal influence to convince Impa to grant Reese guardianship over Death Mountain. That would force Reese to move to Saria away from all the harassment he received daily, and give him a new sense of importance to ease his conscience over resigning as Ruto's mayor.

This had naturally put Error and Bagu at odds with each other over the fate of Death Mountain, and Bagu took it as a personal insult. The fact that Error was so adamant about giving Reese the position created an unintended friction with Bagu, who soon turned his campaign against Error and sought to discredit and humiliate him. Error should have backed down then, after all, Bagu eventually ended up guarding Death Mountain anyway, but he had been offended by the personal attacks Bagu had launched against him and struck back. Now, six years later, their rivalry had escalated to the point where Bagu seemingly wanted to permanently scar Error's reputation by stealing what no one even knew he guarded. And once people found out that the triforce had been stolen under Error's watch, he would likely be shunned from society and hated by all. Error also suspected that Bagu had a grandiose plan to make it look like he had heroically recovered the missing pieces to boost his own status, but none of that mattered now. Two pieces of the triforce were in criminal hands, and without them, even were the triforce of courage to be recovered, balance would never be restored to Hyrule and the possibility of Gannon's resurrection would be a shadow over the land for the remainder of time.


	2. Chapter 2

Back in Ruto, Error spent the rest of the night in the local tavern. He would make the trip to Mido tomorrow, but as for tonight it was well past dusk, and there was no hope of finding this man in the blue hood that Bagu had mentioned.

Error stared into his mug at his blurry reflection swirling around on the surface of the blackish ale. As disturbing as the theft of the triforce was, it was in fact not at the forefront of Error's mind. Flashbacks, those terrible memories that he would never be able to rid himself of, always haunted him on the eve of any mission of importance. They were there to remind him of his unworthiness, to remind him of the awful things he had done. He still had to bear the yoke of great responsibility even despite the sins that flogged his soul at every thought. He was a broken man, a fallen hero, someone who fate had dictated would be great, and still held him in its clutches despite his terrible defiance.

Error looked up to see Reese walking into the bar. Even after his tumultuous term as mayor, Reese had remained in Ruto. It was a bizarre decision, but after someone new had taken the reigns and Hyrule continued its post-Gannon decay, time had healed the wounds exchanged between Reese and the citizens of Ruto. The target was removed from his back, and, ironically, some citizens actually considered him a beacon of wisdom due to his prior role of leadership.

"Thinking about her again?" Reese knew Error better than anybody, and always seemed to appear to offer friendship when Error went to the tavern to drink himself into a coma.

"No," Error responded, "I've got some important business to attend to tomorrow. I just needed a drink to relax my mind, you know, a little courage for a dangerous situation."

Reese smiled weakly. He knew more of Error's secrets than most, but even he didn't know about the triforce being hidden in the King's Tomb. But he was not an easy man to fool, he was aware that no matter what crisis the often called upon Error was to face, on a night when he was found stewing in the tavern, only one thing was on his mind.

"It's been twelve years, Error," Reese said, "you are a much too important man to be consumed by guilt for twelve years. Hyrule needs you more than ever, you know that."

"I don't see how Hyrule needing me has anything to do with my self loathing," Error defiantly took another gulp of his dark brew, "Hyrule doesn't care about my pain, as long as I fulfill my duties to the throne. And I haven't yet failed them."

Reese sighed heavily. While there was some comfort in his friend's concern, Error was also irritated by the condescending reprimands offered by Reese to convince him he was too important to feel guilt. All the more reason he should feel it. Heroes didn't commit the acts of vile destruction Error was responsible for. How could anyone expect him to forgive himself? If fate had selected him to be a hero of Hyrule, then he was, as he had often heard, true to his name.

"What would it take?" his friend implored him, "what would it take for you to forgive yourself? What would it take to end your pain? I would do anything I could to help you."

"There is nothing you can do," Error said darkly, "only one thing could end it. And that is something I will never feel again. Her embrace. Her touch. Her own voice saying that she still loved me."

"What about the boy?" Reese suggested, "I hear he has his mother's eyes."

"Out of the question," Error felt his voice start to quiver with emotion and took another swig to try to stay his tears, "he must never know of my existence. A soiled lineage would only bring him down to my level. Without me, he is so much more."

Error tried to ignore Reese's empathetic gaze coming from across the table. He didn't want to break down. Not tonight. Not with such an important task before him. But, fighting the profound impact of his greatest mistake was one thing not even the mighty Error could accomplish. He felt Reese's eyes watch him as he began to sob, a shameful act for a man to perform in public, but not half as shameful as the act that caused it.

"She killed herself because of me," Error could still see her laying there, her icy hand clinging to the dagger which she had used to slash her own throat. That beautiful face, pale and silent in death, under which a river of blood polluted her body and the blankets on which she lay. Twelve years, but the image was still so vivid, so perfectly grotesque.

"If only I hadn't drank this murderous poison," he looked at his mug of ale bitterly, yet still took another drink, "if only I had never been introduced to it. I wouldn't have laid a finger on her. I wouldn't have raised my voice, nor blamed her for my troubles. I drove her to madness! She gave me nothing but love, and I beat her until she could stand no more, and ended her own life!"

Reese let his friend finish his lament, then spoke softly, "Error," he said, "it's not all your fault. She could have taken the baby and run. That's what most women do. You had no way of knowing she'd.."

"Enough!" Error ordered, "you're just making excuses. She loved me Reese. And I loved her. Truly I did. She couldn't live without me. But, because of my actions, she couldn't live with me either. That leads to only one logical conclusion: she couldn't live. It was my fault. I gave her no alternative."

Error's face was scorching with grief. The tears that had poured from his eyes had been absorbed by his thick beard. He wiped his face with his arm and tried to regain composure. The tragic loss of his wife and the weeks of lunacy and madness that had followed had cast a cascade of misfortune on the man once nearly deified by Impa and the royal family. It was hard not to let it all come flooding back, the chain of disaster, the heartbreak that lingered in every thought. He had been regarded by Impa, and many others to be the long prophesied hero of Hyrule. It was mere speculation, of course, but he had bought into it with his entire being. But his mistakes had proven that he lacked the character of a true hero. Still, Impa had compassion on him, and had taken him in after his wife's suicide and ultimately saved him from himself. He still had, and was serving an integral role of keeping Hyrule level and paving the way for the true hero of prophesy. He had done countless remarkable tasks, both before and after the tragedy, that showcased his incomparable courage and qualities of both justice and mercy. Yes, he was usually a very merciful man, except when it came to himself. His glaring mistakes seemed to eclipse even the sins of the demonic Gannon in his mind.

"I'm sorry Reese," he said finally, "I shouldn't have lashed out at you. I have an immense task before me. The bigger the crisis, the more interference I receive from my memories."

"You're a good man, Error," his friend replied, "don't let one misguided chapter of your life destroy your greatness. I- I understand how it must feel, but you have so much more to offer, if only I could make you believe it."

Error stood up and left a few rupees for the bartender. Reese's appearance had saved him from one thing: drinking so much that he'd have to endure a massive hangover the next day.

"It's okay, friend," he patted Reese on the shoulder as he left, "you know that there is no glory for me after peace has been restored to Hyrule. Most don't even know about my service to Impa and the throne. History books will never include the deeds of Error for children to marvel over. Nothing but anonymity awaits me, and after what I've done, I take great solace in that."


	3. Chapter 3

Note: to those who read my last chapter, I now acknowledge it needed some serious editing and several paragraphs should have been rewritten. I also have learned that I spelled "Ganon" wrong. I probably won't re-edit my previous chapters since I don't think anyone would re-read them anyway. My apologies.

The road to Mido was one that Error had become intimately familiar with. Not only was it just North of the King's Tomb, but he had established a number of "hideouts" along the way. Though he lived in Ruto, his guardianship of the tomb meant that he spent little time there. Especially with the surging number of Ganon's minions infesting all of Hyrule, it was crucial to keep an eye on his designated territory. There was one good thing, though. With monsters lurking everywhere off the main Hylian roads, bandits had become more and more reluctant to risk their lives looting any landmark off of the beaten path, particularly one as haunted as the massive cemetery which surrounded the tomb on all sides. And Error had also become rather confident that the minions of Ganon were too incompetent and disorganized to actively search for the triforce, or do anything that took more intelligence than slaughtering every passerby they encountered. That, however, was likely to change over the next few years, so Error's vigilance had remained steadfast.

But how he could be so careless as to allow a sniveling worm like Bagu to creep up right under his nose and steal the triforces of power and wisdom he could never understand. An alliance with a crime syndicate perhaps offered a bit of insight as to how the heist could be performed without a hitch, but there was still the question of how Bagu had learned of the triforce's whereabouts, and that nagged at Error the most.

Mido was a port town on the eastern edge of West Hyrule. In many ways it was an ideal place to run a criminal enterprise: the harbor was really the only place where one could smuggle stolen goods into or out of West Hyrule, and the relatively few soldiers in the town enforcing law were spread pretty thin, their presence much denser near the southeast docks leaving a noticeable absence in the northern residential part. Error didn't go there very often, as it would have greatly lengthened his route to the King's Tomb to stop in Mido rather than cut southward through the sand dunes once he cleared the Parapa Mountain Range. Consequently his face was not well known in Mido, which would work to his advantage during his current endeavor.

By the time he arrived it was close to twilight. The setting sun was to his back, which caused the shadows of buildings and trees to stretch away from him. It was as if they feared the large, grizzled man, their darkened visages long and contorted in a desperate bid to detach themselves from the objects that cast them, and flee into the sea. A handful of stars started to wink through the darker eastern sky above the town, taking their place as the curtain fell on the waning daylight hours.

Error could hear the crunch of the gravel beneath his feet as he crossed into city limits. It was eerie how silent and lifeless the northern part of Mido was. While the residential district was clustered with homes and apartments, few were inhabited. Most of the dock workers lived in the warehouse basements these days, and families in Mido were scarce. It was largely a ghost town, the empty windows of the houses seemed like the lonely eyes of a person who longed for companionship.

As Error made a winding path through the village in search of his quarry he encountered very few people along the town's lonely roads. He ran across a homeless man warming his hands over a fire, his face sooty and his long, gray beard twisted and unruly. Later he crossed paths with a mother holding the hand of a child, the pair scurrying past him as the woman stared distrustfully at the pair of sheathed blades attached to Error's belt. Error laughed inwardly, the weapons he had brought were scarcely larger than machetes, he could only imagine the look he would have induced had he brought along his signature broadsword, which weighed over a hundred pounds, that he strapped to his back on less discreet missions.

Finally he came across a man in a dark blue cape and hood. His apparel was carefully manicured to make him appear as a homeless wanderer, but not too tattered or filthy as to make him look particularly conspicuous. Error approached the man, the smell of rum penetrating the air around him.

"Dodongo dislikes smoke," Error stared directly at the blue hooded stranger as he spoke the line severely.

"Digdogger hates certain kinds of sounds," a raspy whisper came from within the hood. Bagu had not mentioned that this response would come, but being equally ridiculous as Error's greeting, he was confident he had found the right individual. He nodded as if he understood, and after carefully surveying the surroundings, an obviously reflexive but wholly unnecessary gesture considering the vacant state of the town, the man signaled for Error to follow him. After several blocks the man once again scanned the area suspiciously, and upon finding no onlookers, he cast open the wooden lid of a cellar underneath one of the town's buildings.

Error followed the blue-hooded man down a steep staircase made of rotting wood, which groaned underneath his heavy stride. The sounds of leaking water and the dismal darkness surrounding him made Error feel like he was descending into the depths of the abyss. At last the two reached the bottom, and the hooded man pulled the handle of a wooden door open to allow entry. A ferry man granting him passage to Hell, it seemed.

Inside the room Error was greeted by a completely different aura. Four well dressed men took note of him as he entered, two of them relaxing on a velvet sofa, the other two at a table close by drinking ale. A warm, comfortable light filled the room, which had elaborate carpeting and fine art mounted on the walls to instill an atmosphere of luxury. Error suppressed a grimace, he hated luxury.

The four inhabitants of the room were now staring at their new guest, their eyes scanning him up and down in cautious scrutiny. His guide removed the blue hood to reveal a face that was obviously altered with a generous amount of makeup and rubber to obscure the man's natural features. He pulled up an ornate wooden chair and ushered Error into it.

"And what is your business this evening, sir?" one of the men at the couch asked with a voice of smugness and indifference. The other men warily went back to their activities.

"I heard that you acquired an artifact of unparalleled value recently," Error told him, "I'm wondering what price it might be exchanged for."

The man looked slightly surprised at the request, but played it casually, "I see. And what kind of 'artifact' were you hoping to buy?"

Error was a little annoyed. He didn't want to play games with these fools. He rested his head back and sighed. "One whose name should not be uttered without the proper discretion," he said.

The man now looked very confused. He looked at his companions one by one, who in turn shrugged. "And who are you, exactly?" he asked a little tentatively.

Crap. Hopefully they weren't suspicious of Error's intentions. "A foreign collector," he stated, "call me whatever you like. I actually run a business overseas. However, from what I hear, I might just keep the artifact I hear you have obtained. As a symbol of power. Business is always easier when one has established the fear and respect of others."

Error waited anxiously for the response. Hopefully that explanation would be enough to enlighten the knaves as to what it was he wanted, if they were indeed confused. It quickly became apparent that they, in fact, were completely baffled by this information. Confused whispers and nervous glances were exchanged among them. Neither the man who had thus far done the speaking, nor anyone else in the room seemed to know how to respond. Error grew impatient.

"Perhaps I need to speak to someone who may be higher on the chain to perform more sensitive kinds of business," he asserted.

The man nodded as if he understood, and left the room promptly. The others stared apprehensively, an awkward silence stiffening the whole room as he waited. Error wasn't intimidated by them or anyone else in this incompetent little ring of thieves. He only desperately wanted the triforce to be returned to its rightful guardian. He had brought a purse with a lucrative amount of rupees; he would pay the bastards all of it if that's what it took. Or he would gladly resort to less cordial methods.

Eventually the door handle rattled and the man he had spoken to swiftly forced it open and held it with the poise and respect of a guard ushering in royalty. A fat, bloated chunk of humanity limped into the room with the assistance of a polished cedar cane. He was dressed immaculately, and despite his figure appearing as soft as a pillow his countenance was fierce with a fiery and stony shrewdness embedded in it. He was old, mostly bald, with eyebrows that arced sharply like the brow of a great horned owl.

"So what exactly is it that you seek?" the man asked impatiently.

"A great Hylian treasure," Error couldn't suppress a coldness in his voice, "I am leaving Hyrule tomorrow, so I must obtain it tonight. I can exceed any bid you estimate you might receive were you to send word out."

"There are many Hylian treasures," the man snarled, "it's difficult to identify one if you won't speak its name. Let me ask you this, then, who told you we possessed whatever it is you're after?"

"A man called Bagu," Error said.

"Bagu?" the apparent ringleader scoffed, "we haven't done business with him in over a year. He's been trying to keep his nose clean, or so I hear."

Error couldn't help but laugh at that ridiculous suggestion. "Listen," he said, contemplating Bagu's claim that the gang had not been supposed to keep the triforce, "I am no friend of Bagu's. Despite how I may have obtained the information, I am leaving Hyrule tomorrow. I am not returning the artifact to him, I want it, need it, as a trophy for myself."

The fat gangster's ire became apparent after hearing this, "I tell you, I haven't talked to Bagu in a year!" he demanded, "what is it you want? What did he say, or you think that we have?"

Error stood up instinctively at the insulting tone of the man, "He told me that you have the triforce!"

A combination of gasps and suppressed laughter came from the other mobsters in the room, and even the leader had to suppress a smirk.

"Apparently, stranger, you don't know as much about Hyrule as you claim," the fat man's voice lightened slightly, "The triforce is locked inside the Great Temple. Even if I wanted it we could never break the barrier. But be advised, no one in this country would be stupid enough to want something so dangerous merely to sell it. Or for any other reason. Only a madman would think that acquiring the triforce would be of any benefit."

Error was stunned. It was true that most Hylians didn't know that there were actually three triforces, another bit of trivia that had aided him in guarding two of them. But he had assumed that these organized criminals would have known the truth, especially after Bagu had implied as much. They seemed genuine; the chuckles, the confused glances, they seemed like they really didn't have the triforces of wisdom and power. But in a situation this dire, Error couldn't simply trust his intuition. He had to be sure, and if that meant painting the walls with the blood of these miscreants, he would do his duty.

"I will find it!" he declared, "I will search this entire building if I must. I will ransack the whole damned place, so tell me where it is!"

His threat clearly did not please the gangsters, who rose and drew their daggers in preparation. Error in turn removed his two swords, one in each hand, from their sheaths. Though they were much more formidable than the weapons of his opponents, they felt weightless in Error's mighty hands. It felt as if he had drawn two safety pins to challenge his foes.

"Kill him," the leader said dryly, then wobbled out of the room, a large banging sound making it apparent that he had barred the entrance into the manor.

Error stood in a trance-like state, gripping his blades loosely and letting them hang down in no ready position to engage in combat. He hadn't wanted this. Especially since he was fairly convinced that Bagu had lied about hiring the gang to steal the triforce. He was going to have to slaughter these men, and probably more inside, simply to make sure that the sacred relics were not in their hands. And if he found nothing, then the blood of these far from innocent, yet still flesh and blood human beings, would be on Bagu's hands. A sudden anger seized the large warrior, and the opponents, who were biding their time, obviously noticed his change in demeanor.

The five men had formed a circle around him, and as if receiving some cue, they rushed in with their pathetic little daggers to assassinate Hyrule's forgotten hero. Error was completely unfazed, and sprung to life just as the five criminals closed in on him. He unleashed a flurry of attacks as he rapidly pivoted 360 degrees to strike every one of his attackers. In a matter of no more than three seconds, two of the gangsters were dead from deep slashes to the throat. Another had lost his hand and was screaming madly as he watched his stump squirt out blood. The other two had been more fortunate, suffering crippling, but not lethal wounds to their arms.

Error gloomily stared at the quintet of enemies prone beneath him. He hated killing people. He could slaughter legions of Moblins and Goriyas without feeling a hint of remorse, but when it came to human beings, it was like killing members of his own family. In these dark times there was an intangible kinship that Error felt toward his fellow man. It was sad that so many were so wayward as to capitalize on Hyrule's disarray for their own selfish means.

Error's blades were glowing with bright red blood, the smears of battle that robbed his new weapons of their virginity. He didn't bother to wipe it off, as he would no doubt be encountering more enemies through the barred door, and wielding blades coated with fresh blood would contribute to his savage appearance and hopefully frighten off whoever should cross him.

Before advancing, Error tore the hood off of his "contact", who had been one of the criminals unfortunate enough to have their jugulars torn out by Error's blades, and used it as a tourniquet to attempt to stop the bleeding of the still wailing enemy whose hand had been severed. Two were obviously dead, two were injured rather superficially, likely playing dead to avoid facing Error again, and the other one would hopefully live if his bandage was able to curb his blood loss. It was a pity that such violence was necessary, but it could have been much worse.

Error now had to force his way into the heart of the gang's lair. The door was extremely thick and had been barred from the other side to further fortify it. After a couple unsuccessful kicks, and a shoulder thrust that made the door crack, but not give, Error picked up a sturdy looking chair and charged with barbaric force. Both the door and chair shattered upon collision, sending a tsunami of broken wood sailing through the entrance.

As he emerged, bloody swords drawn, he found two guards waiting for him in the lobby of the building, each equipped with halberds, much longer and more dangerous than the daggers wielded by his previous assailants. The guards, however, had apparently been very much impressed by the manner in which Error had broken down the door, for they both were slowly backpedaling, weapons pointed forward, over the scattered shrapnel, some of which had flown all the way across the room. One of them had wooden splinters sprinkled in his hair, and both of them seemed reluctant to attack, or even approach Error.

"Drop your weapons!" he ordered.

The two guards slowly looked at each other, but in the end refused to yield. Great. People are often so much more reckless when they don't want to be amenable to cowardice by their peers. After their unconvincing refusal to surrender they immediately charged Error, thrusting their halberds towards the man. Error simultaneously deflected both attacks by redirecting their weapons with his blades, both outward so the two gangsters clumsily stumbled towards the walls on either side of him. There were about six more mobsters watching from the top of the balcony. Wanting to avoid further combat, he made the regrettable split second decision to pierce the chests of his current assailants as their momentum carried them past him. He did it to send a message to the onlookers that he was not a man they wanted to face. Yet as he stood there with outstretched arms, two men impaled and lifeless, propped up by each of his swords, he felt a flood of shame course through his heart. He had seen the nervous looks in their eyes, he had easily avoided their unskilled attacks, and yet he had still killed them. Murdered them really.

But the grisly act did serve its purpose. Upon ordering the onlookers to drop their weapons and flee, they hastily complied. A clatter of swords and daggers hitting the ground was succeeded by the scampering of feet down the dual staircase and towards the front door opposite of where Error had entered.

While the two story manor was certainly among the nicest homes in Mido, it fortunately had only a few small rooms attached to the lobby, with no additional hallways or attics for Error to search. Hastily he went from room to room tearing out drawers and emptying cupboards in search of the missing triforce. He discovered plenty of contraband: illegal weapons, bootleg liquor, even vials of poison, but he wasn't there as a representative of the law. Only one item interested him, and it was nowhere to be found.

The last room he tried was the master bedroom. As he opened the door, he was startled to see the bloated mob boss standing in the middle of the room, leaning on his cane. Error wasted no time. He buried his fist in the man's belly and thrust him to the ground. Croaking gasps of pain came as the old man lied helplessly on the floor. Error knelt over him and placed one of his blades against the man's throat.

"Do you swear, by your honor, that you did not steal the triforce!" Error's deep voice boomed with wrath.

"Y-you're mad," the man sputtered, "how in the hell could we steal the triforce?"

"You swear that you never discussed it with Bagu, never conspired to steal it?"

"I told you. I haven't seen Bagu in a year. And, and if he had asked me to steal the triforce I would have laughed him out of my house."

It was no use. An obvious dead end. Error sheathed his blade and helped the old man to his feet.

"Some of your men need medical treatment, I suggest you seek some right away," Error said stoically as he turned to leave, "oh, and consider your worthless little criminal ring completely compromised."

In politics, physical prowess gave opponents no advantage. A war of words and public relations favors the most clever, the most cunning. Bagu had wielded those weapons against Error with zeal and charisma, traits that Error didn't possess. But this wasn't about politics anymore. As Error walked back along the trail towards Ruto, the crisp night air still and serene, the only sound the chirping of crickets in the distance, he thought about how four men had died that night. He thought about the wasteful red herring that Bagu had sent him on. He thought about the theft of the most sacred artifacts in Hyrule. It was time to show Bagu the advantages that he possessed.


	4. Chapter 4

Deprived of sleep, Error's nightmares visited him while he was conscious. He saw the body of his dead wife, ghastly and grotesque, the implacable grief not gone with her departed spirit, but evident in the physical form that she left behind. He saw the triforce, in the hands of the faceless evil that possessed it, and the return of Ganon as his ashes were baptized in the blood of the heroic child who had destroyed him. The past, present, and future all were laid before Error in prophetic finality as he trudged toward his rival's cabin. He must stop this horrific chain of events before it was too late. He would squeeze the truth out of Bagu like juice from a lemon if he had to.

But all of Error's intentions were immediately derailed as he stepped out of the woods onto Bagu's property in the overcast grayness of the morning daylight hours. Bagu was perched on his doorstep triumphantly as a dozen Sarian soldiers who had been positioned about the clearing surrounded Error with swords and spears shimmering in the torchlight. Certainly even amidst the sequence of disaster and misfortune that had befallen him during the last couple days, Error never would have expected anything like this. All his life Error's strength had been in his ability to establish control over a situation or predicament. But his interrogation of Bagu as to the true fate of the triforce had now been thwarted by the confusing and very unnerving presence of the soldiers waiting in ambush. Surely this couldn't all be over Error injuring Bagu's wrist two nights before. And how did any of them know that he would be returning to Bagu's cabin so soon?

"I knew eventually you'd tie your own noose, Error," Bagu announced as he approached his nemesis, "and murdering two of my friends in cold blood just shows what an animal you truly are!"

Bagu penetrated the ring of armed soldiers and stood inches away from Error, who was still stunned and speechless, so that he could quietly speak to his adversary outside the range of the soldiers' ears. "I don't know how you found them, or how you knew my claim about the ring in Mido was a ruse," he said, "but it doesn't matter, Error. You're a ruthless, violent brute, and you're going to be dangling from a scaffold for this."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Error whispered coldly, "I was just in Mido wiping the floor with your criminal contacts who you so graciously sacrificed to hide what you really did with the…" Error paused, though most definitely out of earshot of the surrounding sentries, he didn't want to risk even breathing the word "triforce" within half a mile of anyone else lest it should reach the wrong ears.

Bagu grinned at Error's reluctance, "I know based on an eyewitness account from a very reliable source that you were nowhere near Mido, but were in Rauru last night butchering two of my buddies because you thought they stole… Well go on, tell the soldiers what you thought they stole. You'll be the laughing stock of Hyrule," Bagu motioned daringly with his hands but continued to speak softly. Error knew Bagu had great influence over the local government of Saria, and thus challenging Error to explain the truth about the triforce was a gamble that would surely work in Bagu's favor in the presence of Sarian soldiers. Checkmate. Once again Bagu had kept Error from doing things his way by using his shrewd political influence. Error hated these games.

"I don't know why you'd bother framing me for killing two of your 'buddies' in Rauru when I killed four of your 'buddies' in Mido last night. I cleaned out their manor and gave that hawk-faced glutton of a leader a piece of my mind," Error folded his arms. For the life of him he couldn't understand how Bagu, despite all his cunning, could so easily deceive such a multitude of Hylians when his facial expressions betrayed him so starkly. He thought Error had been in Rauru. Someone else was pulling his strings.

Bagu nervously motioned for the soldiers to close in. Error stared at them daringly. His weapons remained sheathed, with his hands prepared to neither draw nor surrender them. The soldiers dutifully continued to close in, unhindered by Error's attempts at intimidation. He needed to figure out how the hell he was going to get out of this without hurting anybody. Going to jail was not an option, not given the dire circumstances to which these well meaning Sarian enforcers were oblivious. They appeared ashen and colorless as they marched through the morning mist, like clay soldiers with no will of their own. It was somewhat eerie.

Bagu shrank slowly back toward his cabin, now outside the circle of soldiers as he trudged uncertainly away from the scene. He was clearly contemplating the prospect of Error having told the truth.

"Bagu!" Error called to him, his final chance to convince him of his innocence, as if it would do any good, "You forgot to tell me that the contact in Mido would say 'Digdogger hates certain kinds of sounds' when I greeted him!"

"Seize him!" Bagu shrieked, and with that the dispatch of clay soldiers quickened their stride to overtake their target.

Error had to get out of there, but by now every angle had now been firmly sealed by the encroaching hoard. He couldn't risk using his weapons, but twelve soldiers trained to cut down any resisting force was not an easy barricade to topple unarmed.

"Put your hands in the air!" Error took his cue to contradict the order by attempting to break out.

He lunged back in the direction of the woods, but as he had anticipated, he was met by a wall of steel. Perhaps he would have had better success had he drawn his weapons simply to deflect the incoming attacks, or even attempted it with his bare hands. However, lacking time to consider his options, he had made the ill fated decision to lower his center of gravity and plunge through the soldiers like a battering ram with his arms in front of his face.

While his forearms, protected only by leather gauntlets, caught a merciless flurry of strikes, a less predictable blow bit through his Achilles tendon and tore halfway through his right ankle. Error heard himself howl as he lost all sensation in his foot, feeling it limply fold underneath him as he continued his stride, tripping him and sending him plunging into the dirt. A heap of bodies collapsed on top of him, pressing him down as his arms were pulled behind him and shackled. He tried to channel his energy toward one final push for freedom, but his muscles refused to obey. Shockwaves from the unexpected slash into his foot had locked down his entire body, as if it was placed on standby as it braced itself for the rest of the pain to come shooting up through his leg. The images before his eyes were torn apart and sent erratically spinning out of control in blurry, grey loops. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he was a vegetable aware only of the sirens shrieking maniacally through his nervous system.

A small schism in the ominous grey clouds sent a beam of afternoon sunlight streaming through the barred window of Error's cell. The events succeeding his injury that day all seemed like a hallucination. His memories could barely piece together his capture by the Sarian guards, and his helpless ride on the back of a horse drawn carriage as he was carted back to Saria and placed in jail. It was as if the entire ordeal had happened in the blink of an eye, and Error couldn't help but roll through the vague memories as if he could change them if only he could grasp them in their entirety. But he knew it was a lost cause. His mind went back to Bagu, and his theory that Bagu was not solely behind the theft of the triforce, but was being manipulated by someone else. But who would have known about the triforce being hidden in the King's Tomb? Furthermore, who would have needed Bagu's help to get it? This left a very disturbing possibility lingering inside of Error's mind, like a sour taste in the back of his mouth that he simply couldn't wash away. It couldn't have been.. There must be another explanation. After all, Error had killed the cursed bastard himself. But then again, he had never recovered a body…

The possibility was so disturbing that it dwarfed the pain in his right foot. He forced himself to stand upright, his foot now mummified beneath a cast that the Sarian jailers were gracious enough to apply. He kept his weight solely on his left leg, but when the oppressive thoughts, crippling beyond any amount of physical anguish, began to creep into his mind, he found it somewhat therapeutic to shift his weight onto his damaged foot and distract himself with the throbbing, inflamed ache that it provided.

Slowly the daylight dwindled, and darkness crept over the sky. Another day lost in his struggle to find the sacred artifact. Another day that had beaten him, leaving him in an even worse situation than the previous one had. Another day of agonizing defeat, and the destruction of Hyrule drawing nigh upon the unsuspecting multitude.

"Please, leave me alone with him, it's very important," Error recognized Bagu's voice, but had his back turned to the door of his cell, and did not turn around to face his rival even as the metallic door clacked open.

"Uh, Error, I…" Bagu said, "we have to talk."

Error felt his heart begin to throb with rage, but did not turn around, refusing to acknowledge Bagu's presence.

"Error, I… I think I made a mistake," this was perhaps the most humble and contrite statement ever uttered by the diabolical little weasel.

"And I think you've made many," Error responded coldly.

"Um, please, Error," Bagu said, "I- I need your help. I can't fix this alone."

Error finally turned around to acknowledge Bagu's presence. The stout man looked like one confined to his sickbed and gasping his final breath. He was as pale as death, he looked old and broken.

"I made a deal with a man, well, he seemed trustworthy," Bagu continued, "but, I believe, well, I think he has the triforce and plans to do something horrible with it."

Error made sure Bagu could feel his stony glare upon him, trying to melt him with it. He was going to make this as difficult for his rival as he possibly could.

"If you even think about saying you made a deal with Garock, I will break you in half," Error said.

The shocked look in Bagu's eyes was all the confirmation Error needed. Bagu began to choke on his words, bewildered and terrified. Despite the horrible revelation that the wizard Garock was still alive, Error allowed himself to enjoy watching Bagu writhe with guilt. After all, he may never witness anything like this again, especially since he would surely be the first Hylian Garock would kill were he to acquire the ultimate power.

"Wh-who is he?" Bagu finally managed.

"You've heard the Legend of Zelda and the wizard who placed her in her eternal slumber, I assume?" Error said, "well Garock is the very same wizard. It was he that plunged the land into unrest."

"Impossible," Bagu gasped, "the stories say that the wizard who cast the spell died upon its completion. He couldn't possibly…"

"The 'stories' are tailored to keep the whole country from pandemonium," Error hissed, "certain material facts were altered so that Hylians wouldn't go on a witch hunt for the fugitive. In reality, the royal family was foolish to ever trust Garock in the first place. He had already cast a spell on himself to keep from aging, making him essentially immortal, and his hunger for power was quite transparent. But they thought of him as an oracle, and paid dearly for it when he took advantage of the prince's greed and put Zelda into a never ending stasis. He didn't die, he fled, he had accumulated too much power to die from such a thing."

"Sweet mercy," Bagu whispered, "can he not be killed?"

Error shook his head, "I don't know. Twelve years ago I was sent to kill him. He is beyond evil, the things he did to me, the hatred, it is beyond anything even you are capable of. But I thought I killed him. After over a year of hunting him I threw him from a cliff atop Death Mountain. The drop was hundreds of feet, I couldn't imagine that he could have survived. But we never recovered his body…"

Bagu was trembling wildly, it almost looked more like he was convulsing. A man on the verge of a nervous breakdown. As satisfying as witnessing that would have been to Error, if there was even a remote possibility of halting the cataclysmic events that had been set in motion, Error would need Bagu, at least for information. After that he could break down and be locked in a sanitarium, or commit suicide for all Error cared. But sensitive to the importance of keeping the feeble little man calm, Error softened his demeanor ever so slightly.

"There is one way, at least, to destroy the wizard," he told him. Bagu looked up hopefully. "You're probably aware that the prince, heir to the throne, went mad and locked Zelda's body in the Northern Palace," he continued, "during that time a series of prophesies and revelations took place. The triforce of courage had been placed in the Great Palace, sealed by the absence of the six crystals, which were hidden in the Temple with the sleeping princess. Garock had sought the location of the triforce of courage, and its discovery would surely be made known to him. But Garock's binding and betrayal of the royal family allowed a powerful curse to be placed upon him. Garock cannot approach any person of the royal bloodline, living or dead, or he will weaken and perish. That is why the crystals were hidden with the body of the sleeping princess, to prevent him from getting his hands on them. That's also why he couldn't recover the triforces from the King's Tomb on his own. It seems he employed you to accomplish that for him."

Bagu swallowed hard. "He said he was a psychic who was in poverty and needed money," he explained, "I gave him 500 rupees for the whereabouts of the triforce, and then sent my men to recover it. The two men that I thought you murdered. They were supposed to hang on to it and then we'd return it after… After we scared you a little."

"And by scaring me a little you mean completely disgracing me by telling everyone the triforce had been stolen because of my carelessness!" Error interrupted.

"I thought my two men had it, and you'd killed them and gotten it back. That's what Garock told me. It was supposed to be a minor scandal. It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. It must've been Garock who killed those two men and took the triforce. He played me all along."

"Exactly!" Error said, "and then bought himself time by having you ambush me! And it worked to perfection. How could you be such an idiot?"

It was the first time Error had ever seen Bagu take an insult without his face reddening, and him shooting bile right back in retaliation. Certainly Bagu truly comprehended the gravity of what was taking place. It was somehow encouraging to Error to see such a change come over the man. To see him so lost, so grief stricken over his mistakes, he almost reminded Error of himself. Now that would be a sure sign of Hell freezing over, the day when Error and Bagu shared a common emotion.

"Look, Bagu," Error said, "if Garock has the triforces of wisdom and power that means that he has devised a way to get the triforce of courage as well. That means he needs the crystals from the Northern Palace. I don't know how he plans on getting them, but that needs to be our destination, we must hurry!"

"Can you walk?" Bagu looked at Error's bandaged foot doubtfully.

"I'll manage somehow."

"I know a person in this town who knows the spell of life," Bagu suggested, "if we can make it there I'm sure he can undo most of the damage."

"Alright," Error agreed, "then we'll stop in Ruto so I can get my weapon. I don't know what we'll be up against, but maybe there's still hope."

Joining forces with Bagu, Error never would have guessed he'd see the day when that happened. Of course, it was Bagu's fault that any of this had occured, but in this situation, there could be no thoughts of blame or resentment. Indeed, Bagu's humility had impressed Error, and rubbing salt in the wound or giving in to petty pride would be of no service to anyone. And perhaps Error would need the support of his longtime rival as he entered the breach to face his greatest enemy once again. And if he met Garock face to face, he would be certain that this time only one of them survived.


End file.
